


and stealing my heart....

by aljohnson



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sex, Smut, Speculative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne's father has turned up, unannounced. From England. Matters have escalated somewhat, and when Jack arrives for a pre-arranged supper, Mr Butler gets him to assist in staging an intervention. Matters escalate. </p><p>Not related to any of my other MFMM fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and stealing my heart....

**Author's Note:**

> We know that Phryne's father is turning up in Season 3. My fevered brain is working through the breadcrumbs in the press releases, and this is one of the possibilities it has come up with. I expect to be thoroughly canon-balled sometime in the first quarter of 2015.

As he strode up the driveway, Jack could hear raised voices coming from the parlour, the sound wafting through the opened window. He frowned in confusion; he was sure they were supposed to have had an arrangement for supper this evening. One of the raised voices was Phryne’s, the other sounded like it was a man’s. 

Jack knocked on the door and waited. Mr Butler opened the door, a strained look across his face. “Oh thank goodness you’re here Inspector, please come in” Mr Butler spoke quietly and gestured for Jack to enter, and he did so, removing his hat automatically. Jack noted that the doors to the parlour were firmly closed. 

“I don’t want to speak out of turn, Inspector” Tobias found himself conflicted; his position gave him enormous insight into Miss Fisher’s life. He was a discrete presence, and he observed a great deal. He could see that Miss Fisher and the Inspector cared for each other, but that they were both hesitant to progress matters. Tobias Butler was also deeply unamused by the events unfolding in the parlour. He knew Miss Fisher would be offended by the notion of requiring rescue, but felt that something decisive needed to be done. Respite would only be temporary, but was much needed at this point. 

“Of course not Mr Butler. However, I did hear raised voices. Is Miss Fisher all right?” Jack asked, as the unmistakable sound of crockery impacting a wall drifted into the hallway from behind the closed doors.

“I believe she is admirably standing her ground, Inspector. Although I do feel that we may have reached the point where an intervention is required”

“And who….”

“The man, Sir? Lord Fisher of Blackheath, Sir. Miss Fisher’s father, I believe”

“Ah” Jack was instantly troubled. His impression of Phryne’s father entirely comprised of stories occasionally told to him by Phryne herself. His impression was not favourable. 

“Indeed Sir. And I am given to understand that he believes he is staying here” Mr Butler added the last piece of information in an attempt to persuade the Inspector of the seriousness of the situation.

“So we need to remove Miss Fisher. From her own house.” Jack could already sense that this would not be easy, and could very well go very badly. 

“Indeed Sir.” Mr Butler had also reached the same conclusion.

“Is Miss Williams at home?” Jack was beginning to form the outline of a plan. His undercover experience of having to think on his feet was suddenly proving to be useful.

“She is, Sir” Mr Butler could see the thoughts working quickly through the Inspector’s mind.

“Hmm. Could you ask Miss Williams to quickly pack Miss Fisher an overnight bag. If she comes down the back stairs and through the kitchen, she can deliver the bag to my car without Miss Fisher’s father noticing” Jack was of the thought that once he had removed Miss Fisher from her house, she would need to stay away for some time, at least overnight.

“Do you have a plan, Sir?” Mr Butler wondered if there was any way he could assist.

“I’m working on it, Mr Butler. Now, if you could perhaps introduce me with a little more formality than normal, perhaps less indication that Miss Fisher and I know each other, quite as well….” Jack paused; she was probably going to take this badly. She didn’t like anyone trying to tell her what to do. From the parlour the sound of a glass impacting on the grate and shattering into pieces could clearly be heard. “I’ll have to think on my feet a little, but let’s hope Miss Fisher is as keen to extricate herself from this situation as we are to assist her.”

“Good luck Sir.” The two men nodded at each other, Jack took a sharp breath and steeled himself in front of the parlour doors.

Mr Butler knocked on the doors, opened them and stepped in. The blazing row which had been in progress ceased. “I am very sorry to disturb Miss, but a Detective Inspector Robinson is here.”

Phryne looked confused. Jack stepped into the parlour, trying to assess the situation quickly. The older man was red in the face; Phryne was pale. He thought he saw her trembling slightly, and tried to decide whether it was fear, anger or both he could see written on her face. 

Jack produced his warrant card from his inside pocket, “Detective Inspector Robinson, City South Police Station. Miss Phryne Fisher?”

An expression of confusion crossed Phryne’s face. Jack looked at her, a slight pleading expression momentarily crossing his face as he met her gaze, widening his eyes as if to try to compel her to understand. He willed her to play along.

“Yes?” she replied. 

Phryne had no idea what was going on. She saw an expression cross Jack’s face that she interpreted as a plea. It occurred to her that she had been supposed to have supper with Jack tonight. She had been greatly looking forward to it; it felt as if they were reaching their tipping point, as if things might be about to ‘develop’ between them. Phryne was struggling to accept that her physical desire for Jack was coming to be matched by her emotional attachment to him. As far as Phryne was concerned the whole affair was complicated somewhat by Jack’s refusal to make any sort of move. She had no clue as to how he felt. She thought he probably cared for her as a friend, and she had observed him looking at her with somewhat appreciative gazes, but she was a good-looking woman, and men looked at her appreciatively; it did not always mean they were interested. At this point, she was very unsure as to whether either of them would ever pluck up the courage to take the final step. She was dragged from her thoughts by Jack’s next words.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Miss Fisher, but you are under arrest. Would you come with me?” Jack looked at Phryne with a completely blank expression.

“Under arrest? For what?” bellowed the ruddy faced man.

Jack maintained his composure and reached back into his pocket, swapping his warrant card for his notebook. He pretended to flick through the notebook. He coughed slightly, and looked at Phryne once more, before turning to face her father, “Assaulting a Police Officer, Breaking and Entering; numerous premises, interfering with a crime scene, again; numerous occasions, theft, actual bodily harm, going equipped, concealing a deadly weapon and numerous traffic offences.” He looked back towards Phryne. “In deference to your position Miss, if you will come quietly I will forego the use of handcuffs.” Jack suddenly hoped that she would come quietly. Which would, he mused, be very out of character. He snapped his notebook shut and replaced it in his jacket.

Phryne was stunned into silence. On the Chaise, her father was growing redder by the second and looked as if he was about to combust.

“You nefarious little guttersnipe” Phryne’s father yelled, addressing Phryne.

“If I could ask you to keep out of this matter, Sir” said Jack, “I have enough to contend with dealing with Miss Fisher here”.

Phryne came back to herself. She would never yield to a policeman without a fuss, and her father knew it. She would have to act up. She hoped Jack would forgive her. “I’d reach for your handcuffs then, Inspector. I never come quietly”. She darted for the door, throwing herself bodily into Jack, the force briefly knocking him off-balance, cleverly turning herself so that the action would look more violent to her father than it was. 

Jack grabbed Phryne’s arms, yanking them behind her as he turned her so that she was bent over one of the armchairs. He pressed his hips up against her to hold her in place. Jack tried not to think impure thoughts, especially given that her father was in the room. He reached into his pocket and produced his handcuffs, quickly fixing them around Phryne’s delicate wrists. 

“Butler” bawled Phryne’s father. Mr Butler appeared in the doorway, looking completely unfazed.

“Yes Sir?” Mr Butler asked, ignoring the physical struggle which his employer and the Inspector were engaged in. 

“This, person, is attempting to remove my daughter” he juddered when he yelled.

“Oh dear. How unfortunate, Sir. I shall fetch Miss Fisher’s wrap.” Mr Butler gave a small bow and began to withdraw, as Jack dragged Phryne from the room. 

“Butler?” Phryne’s father was appalled at this upstart servant.

“I think you should remain here, Sir. Best to let the law take its course, Sir. This is, a, regrettable occurrence, Sir, and I hope that I am not speaking out of turn, but I had feared this day would come” Mr Butler stepped out into the hallway, leaving the doors open.

As they crossed into the hallway Jack said loudly, “Now, don’t make it worse for yourself Miss Fisher, we’ll get all this sorted down at the station”. As Mr Butler blocked her father’s view, Jack whispered in Phryne’s ear, “sorry, Phyrne, sorry”. Phryne flashed him a look that indicated there would be words later, but he thought he saw a hint of gratitude in her eyes too.

Phryne continued her pretend struggle as Mr Butler retrieved a fur wrap from the coat stand and placed it gently around Miss Fisher’s shoulders. Jack forcefully pressed his hat onto his head. Mr Butler opened the front door and Jack bundled her through it, pushing her down the path towards the street, where his car was parked on the corner. He manoeuvred her around to the passenger side of the vehicle and glanced back at the house. He could see Phryne’s father, now standing in the porch of the house.

“Your father’s still watching, so, sorry” he repeated, as he man-handled her into the car. As he moved around to the driver’s side, he saw that Mr Butler had finally managed to remove Phryne’s father back inside the house. 

Jack got in the car. Phryne was shaking slightly, her arms cuffed behind her. “Lean forward” Jack said gently. Phryne shuffled forwards in the seat. She sniffed quietly and Jack suddenly felt that this had all been a very bad idea. Jack rooted in his pocket for the key to the cuffs. Phryne twisted her arms towards Jack, who carefully unlocked the metal bracelets. He hoped she wouldn’t run back to the house. 

Phryne wiggled her arms, restoring the feeling to them. She moved her hands to her lap. Jack took her nearest hand, and gently ran his fingertips over her wrist. There were already marks forming on her skin. He reached for the other hand and caressed that gently as well. “Sorry, Phryne. I’m so sorry. Mr Butler thought….” his voice faded.

“Umm, yes. Probably for the best, Jack” Phryne went quiet again. 

Jack considered what to say, and the possibilities for where he could take her. After a few minutes there was a gently tap on the car window. Dot looked nervously around her as Jack lowered the window. 

“Thank you Miss Williams” Jack said, indicating the back seat of the car. Dot opened the rear door and slid the small valise into the back of the car. She held up a basket and showed it to Jack before sliding it into the back as well. 

“It’s not much, Inspector, but it was the best Mr Butler could do in a hurry. Where are you going?” Dot asked, continuing to glance around her.

Jack retrieved his notebook, hastily writing a note before ripping the sheet from the binding and handing it to Dot, “we’ll be here. Let Mr Butler know, and perhaps,” he quickly glanced towards Phryne before continuing, “perhaps you should go to your mother’s for the evening? I’m sure Mr Yates and Mr Johnson could be prevailed upon to provide carriage?” 

“Yes, yes, a good idea Dot. Take the money from the housekeeping tin” Phryne finally spoke in something approaching her normal tone.

“Of course Miss. You will look after her Sir?” Dot was trying not to fret, but she had heard the shouting and screaming coming from the parlour, even in the kitchen. She had decided that she did not like Miss Phryne’s father; he was loud and boorish, and he had been rude towards Mr Butler. 

“Of course, Miss Williams. Thank you” Jack smiled. Dot disappeared back into the shadows.

Jack started the car and began to drive. The atmosphere in the car remained tense. Phryne was in turmoil. She was somewhat annoyed that her father had effectively chased her from her own home. Ordinarily she would have been fuming at both Jack and Mr Butler for their intervention, but she was strangely relieved to be out of the immediacy of the situation. 

“What was on the note?” asked Phryne, eventually. 

“My address?” offered Jack. “Although obviously, if you’d prefer a hotel…”

“I think I’d prefer your company” said Phryne, knowing that if she chose to go to a hotel Jack would refuse to stay for the sake of propriety. 

Jack smiled weakly. These were not the circumstances under which he had ever envisioned Phryne visiting his home. Jack, in moments of daydreaming, imagined that he might stand any chance of winning Phryne’s heart. He knew that the reality was unlikely; she would never feel about him the way he felt about her, and he was content to allow himself to wallow in a state of unrequited ardour; the ability to spend time with Phryne being enough to satisfy at least some of his longing.

Phryne was perplexed. She had been trying for some time to breach the barriers Jack had erected around virtually the entirety of his private life. She had been attempting to find out where he lived, but had been repeatedly thwarted. She had not even been able to entice the information from Hugh, who was usually so reliably susceptible to her manipulation. It had apparently only taken the appearance of her annoyance of a father. It was a curious upturn to the day’s events. She noted absently that they were crossing the Yarra; heading towards the east of the city. 

“Richmond?” she asked.

“Yes” confirmed Jack, his nerves starting to develop; his house was nowhere near as grand as Phryne's, and he was somewhat worried as to what her opinion of it would be.

A few minutes later Jack turned off Swan Street into a quiet side road. Phryne laughed, “Stanley Street? Oh, Aunt Prudence must never know!” It was the most Phryne-like Jack had seen her behave since he had arrived at her house. Jack allowed himself a smile. Jack parked up outside a neat house at the end of the first section of road. It was single storey, and a small set of stairs led from the street level to the front door, the entire building raised up slightly. There was a small veranda running across the front of the building, from which an observer could have watched the street, or looked across the small front yard, which had been mostly laid with lawn.

Jack got out of the car and retrieved Phryne’s bag and the basket. He dashed to the front door and left the items under the veranda, before returning to assist Phryne from the car.

“Is this going to terribly scandalise your neighbours?” asked Phryne, concerned for Jack’s reputation.

Jack decided to make an attempt at humour, “Well obviously your absolute lack of a hat might set tongues wagging” he offered her his arm and escorted her to the door. 

“Not exactly what I meant Jack” Phryne felt a smile forming across her face. 

Jack dug in his pocket for his small bunch of keys, unlocking the door. Phryne, who had gathered up the valise and basket, handed the latter to Jack, who gestured her into the lounge. He fumbled for the light switch to cast some light into the gloom. As the space lit up, Phryne eagerly looked around, her natural curiosity overcoming her rattled state. 

There was a small amount of furniture in the lounge; a small two-seater sofa and an armchair, arranged around a low table. There was a large rug covering most of the wooden floor, which had been painted, or perhaps polished; Phryne could not be sure which. Against the wall farthest away from the door was a small drinks trolley, nestled between a gramophone player and a wireless. The usual equipment lay by the fire, and a basket of cut wood was also present. A small pile of newspapers lay next to the wood. Phryne moved to the armchair and placed her valise on it. She removed her wrap and looked around. There was a row of coat hooks immediately inside the door, and she moved back, delicately placing the fur across the pegs. 

She turned and saw Jack, still clutching the basket, looking at her with concern. “I was expecting more books?” she looked around the room; there was a solitary volume on the coffee table.

“Ah” said Jack, moving to the first door off the room and swinging it open. He indicated that Phryne could investigate as he flicked the switch on in the room which he had decided to designate as a study. Phryne moved into the room and looked around eagerly. “I’ll be back in a minute. Or, come and find me if I’m not” Jack said, withdrawing from the room. 

Jack shucked his overcoat off, placing it and his hat on the coat pegs next to Phryne’s wrap. The image brought a lump to his throat. Jack took a moment; this was absolutely not the time to even consider seduction. Phryne was upset, and quite probably emotionally vulnerable, and in a strange house, and just, just, it was just an absolutely terrible thought pattern to even consider exploring. 

He moved down the small hallway to his kitchen, unpacking the contents of the basket. If this was what Mr Butler assembled in a hurry, he did not really want to consider a planned meal. There was half a loaf of bread, some eggs, some uncooked bacon and sausages, some mushrooms, a few onions, a bottle of white wine, a gratin that seemed to have been somewhat hastily removed from the oven, some podded peas which Jack determined were as yet uncooked, a number of carrots; already sliced and the best prize of all, a joint of beef which had plainly been ‘resting’ when he had arrived at Phryne’s house. 

He removed most of the raw items to the icebox; excepting the peas and carrots which he decided had been intended to form a part of dinner. He set to work boiling a pan of water to cook the vegetables. 

In the study Phryne was taking a keen interest in the contents of the shelves and the items on display. On one wall there were a number of certificates charting Jack’s rise through the ranks of the Victorian Police. There were only a few photographs: one Phryne deduced must be of his parents; there was another of an unfamiliar man, with a woman who was clearly his wife and their children. Phryne wondered who they might be; presumably relatives of some sort. There was a painting on the wall; a landscape that Phryne thought was more European than Australian. There were few other knick-knacks, as she would have termed them, and she turned her attention to the books. 

The bookshelves contained the expected classics, as well as a Pear’s Cyclopedia; dated October 1927, and an edition of Wisden; also a few years old. There were also more modern works, some poetry and, most surprisingly of all, a copy of the Queensland Cookery and Poultry Book. The books were very neatly arranged, the differing sizes forming a pleasing pattern from tallest to shortest along the shelf. 

There were two windows in the room, looking out onto the street. A comfortable armchair, the twin of the one in the lounge, had clearly been positioned so as to allow the light to fall onto it. There was a desk between the windows, a small pile of papers tidily placed upon it. A phone was positioned in one corner. It looked remarkably like his desk at work. Feeling that she might be crossing a line, but failing to resist, Phryne approached the desk. The papers were mostly household bills, noted with Jack’s appalling hand-writing as to when they had been paid. She presumed there was a filing system somewhere. Underneath a paperweight was a case file. Phryne frowned, she knew Jack sometimes took work home, she had left the station with him on more than one evening when he had been laden down with a briefcase groaning with papers; but this was a slim folder, the cardboard faded from exposure to the sunlight as it moved across the study during long days. 

Phryne reached for the file, stopping to listen for any sign of Jack. There were some faint sounds coming from the back of the house. She picked up the file and opened it. It was empty excepting some mug shots of her, taken by Hugh, on one of the first occasions when Jack had arrested her. Phryne was utterly confused as to what it meant. She hastily closed the folder and replaced it underneath the paperweight. She suddenly felt as if she was intruding. 

She withdrew from the study, switching the light off and pulling the door to gently. She wasn’t sure where Jack was. She shivered slightly. The fire was laid but not lit. “Should I get this fire going Jack?” she called out. 

There was a moment of silence before she heard Jack’s response, “yes please, thank you” the words wafted along the hallway. Phryne set to work, locating the matches and ripping off some of the newspaper to act as kindling. She was rather pleased that she had not forgotten the skill, and she soon had a good fire going. Her hands were now somewhat dirty, and it occurred to her that a visit to the bathroom would be advantageous. 

She looked down the hallway. There were four doors, and it was suddenly important to her not to breach Jack’s privacy, no matter how much she had previously wanted to. There was a light coming from underneath one of the doors and Phryne approached it with some trepidation. 

The door was very slightly open when Phryne reached it, and she deduced that it was the kitchen. She pushed the door open with her forearm, wanting to avoid spreading the dirt. Jack was moving around the kitchen. He had removed his suit jacket; Phryne did not think she had seen him looking so relaxed since Queenscliff. 

“Jack” she spoke up.

He turned and smiled at her, “Phryne. I see you had an encounter with the fire. It can be a little tricky”. He wiped his hands on a tea towel and moved over to her. He took Phryne’s chin gently in his hand, lifted his other hand to his lips, licking his thumb and brushing the dampened pad over Phryne’s cheek, showing her the small amount of black which had now transferred to him. Phryne felt her breath stutter. He was so close to her now, and she could see a tender concern written deep within his eyes. 

“Yes” she held up her hands, there were traces of ash on them. She suddenly had a desperate need to change the subject. “Do you have a bathroom?” she asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“You were almost there. Last door, just a little further down. Next to the back-door” Jack smiled as he answered. “Light switch is on the outside” he called out as Phryne backed out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom.

“Thank you” she called, with more control than she felt. She staggered slightly as she found the light switch and moved into the bathroom. It was plainly a recent addition. There was a very new bath tub, a washbasin and an indoor lavatory. Not something, Phryne considered, that could necessarily be taken for granted in Richmond. Her childhood home in Collingwood had had only an outdoor privy. They were not so very far from there, although Jack had plainly made the effort to improve this house. And Richmond had always been a 'better' area than Collingwood. She locked the door, washing her hands to remove the ash and newsprint before dealing with more her more basic requirements and returning to the wash basin to wash her hands once more. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was not entirely sure that it was an effect of the heat of the fire. Her eyes looked puffy, and she realised that her father had brought her perilously close to tears. 

Damn him, and his impertinence. He had no right, no right whatsoever to just turn up, unannounced, on her doorstep and start making demands. She was older now, and wiser, and would not allow herself to be cowed by him, but he scared her still; his aggression and violence only barely subdued by the title of 'Lord' and the advantages it conferred. And it seemed that he had made a glorious embuggeration of the whole thing. Phryne hoped her mother was all right. She wondered why she had not been in touch; the sea voyage from England took longer than a telegraph message; surely her mother could have sent her warning? Maybe she didn’t know that her father had fled the country? But mostly Phryne was angry with her father. 

Now she had been forced to flee her own home to prevent the situation from deteriorating. Now she was being forced to rely on Jack. She hated having to rely on anyone, even Jack. Her mind drifted back to his study. What did the mug-shots mean? Someone who cared about you as a friend might have a photograph of you, she rationalised to herself. It was, entirely normal of him; to have used police resources and then removed the result to his house. Perfectly normal, she tried to assure herself. And the way he had looked at her in the kitchen; that was just friendly concern, nothing more. She splashed cold water onto her face. 

In the kitchen, the meal was almost ready. Jack had managed to get the range back up to operating temperature fairly quickly; grateful that he had briefly been home after work to prepare himself for the intended supper at Phryne’s. Jack was thankful that Mr Butler had prepared so much of the food. He began to plate up the food as he heard the bathroom door unlock. Jack tried not to think about the softness of Phryne’s cheek. It was inappropriate, he reminded himself. The thought of her sitting with him by his fire was even more inappropriate, he told himself, willing the image to vacate his mind. 

Phryne entered the kitchen. Jack had somehow managed to rustle up a more than passable supper. She spied the basket and gathered that Mr B had taken drastic measures. 

“Would you like some wine? Mr Butler put some in the basket. It’s in the Icebox” Jack burbled, indicating the ice box as he moved the plates of food to the kitchen table and fiddled with the range. 

“Yes, that would be lovely” Phryne found she was pulling her sleeves down over her hands, like a nervous school girl. Phryne looked around and took two glasses from the dresser located in an alcove near the range. She moved to the icebox and retrieved the wine, noting the other food items which she recognised as having come from her larder.

“Do you mind if we eat in here? Rather than the dining room? This is warmer” he felt ridiculous. It was just Phryne. Having supper. In his house. In his kitchen. And she looked so pretty. He just wanted to kiss her. He slowly blinked his eyes shut and open, in an attempt to regain his composure. He had been considering making his move after supper this evening. He had thought that she had started looking at him the way he thought he looked at her. It was becoming harder to justify to himself why he didn’t just pluck up the courage to kiss her. At least he’d have the memory to cling to when his heart got broken. He was fairly sure that was going to happen anyway; he may as well actually commit the sin. 

Phryne placed the glasses and the wine on the table. “Corkscrew?” she asked.

“In the drawer” Jack indicated the dresser once again. 

Phryne nodded, moving back to the dresser. She opened the drawer and found the corkscrew. Jack suddenly moved over to stand next to her, stopping her from shutting the drawer. “And the cutlery,” he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. Their hands bumped as they both reached for the knives and forks. “Sorry” he said, not actually moving his hand. Instead he found his fingers intertwining with Phryne’s. He stared at his own fingers. It occurred to him that his own body was betraying him. 

Phryne felt the warmth and the width of Jack’s fingers. He only ever held her hand in perilous circumstances. And then only because he was usually dragging her away from some danger. It occurred to her that Jack had dragged her away from danger tonight. Phryne shut her eyes, trying desperately to blink back the tears which were now threatening to burst free. Phryne Fisher did not allow herself to cry in front of a man. Not even one as good as Jack.

Jack saw Phryne’s eyes shut slowly, and felt the shudder of her body before he heard the sob. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. After a few seconds he felt Phryne’s arms wrap around him. The threatened tears burst forth and quickly swelled to a flood. Jack moved one hand to Phryne’s head, smoothing his fingers through her hair. After a few minutes the weeping slowed down, and she started to sniff, trying to stem the tide of snot which had also made an appearance. Jack removed his hand from her hair and rooted in his trouser pocket, proffering the handkerchief he kept there. Phyrne loosened her vice like grip with one hand and took the soft white cotton. Jack decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and resolutely averted his eyes as she blew her nose heavily a few times, sniffing in between. She carefully dabbed the handkerchief to her eyes. Still looking at the ground she mumbled “that food will be going cold”.

“Yes. Let’s sit down then, shall we?” Jack picked the cutlery from the drawer and gently led Phryne to the table, assisting her into a chair. He prised the corkscrew from her fingers and moved round to the other side of the table, taking his own seat. He opened the wine, pouring a glass for Phryne and one for himself. In the back of Phryne’s mind a small rational thought wondered how he was going to drive her home if he drank too much alcohol. She considered that enough time would probably pass before they had to leave. 

They started eating, Phryne maintaining her downwards gaze. After a few quiet minutes during which she eagerly tucked in, she spoke, “so me being here, it isn’t going to cause you to be the subject of too much gossip is it Jack?”

“Probably not. As far as the neighbours are concerned, I am a single man, and if I want to have a lady to supper, well, there’s nothing to stop me, is there?” he sipped from his wine glass. 

“A single man?” Phryne considered the word choice. “Do I take it that this is not where you and Rosie lived?”

“No. I moved here after…. There were too many ghosts in what was her house. I felt like it was time to move on, so I sold the old place. I’ve been here,” he considered, “since January. And it’s near enough to The Oval for me to be able to get to matches. When I’m not on duty” 

Phryne smiled, “men and their footie”.

“I rather thought you enjoyed the match when you came with me?” Jack recalled that day; it had been spectacular. The way she had looked at him that day had been the way she had been looking at him for the last few weeks. He had thought about kissing her that day; but with Rosie, and Fletcher, and George all in attendance, he had decided against it. If she was going to slap him for behaving improperly, he would rather his ex-wife would not be there to witness it.

“I enjoyed the company. I can’t even tell you who won” Phryne continued to wolf down the food; she was much hungrier than she realised. 

“Abbotsford. 19 to 4. But you are correct as ever, Miss Fisher, the company was excellent”. Jack was eating somewhat slower than Phryne. He wondered when she had last eaten. He smiled at her compliment. 

Phryne took a gulp from her wine. “So, you’ve met my father. Perhaps you can see why I choose to live on the other side of the planet from him.”

Jack had wondered when they would reach this topic, “Yes. Did you know he was coming?” The look Phryne threw him indicated that plainly she had not. “Why is he here?” he added.

“I am honestly not sure. Something about him having messed up the money, and annoyed the wrong blokes, so he’s left my mother to rely on the kindness of the local aristocracy and done a runner back here” Phryne realised that her accent had slipped somewhat closer to Collingwood than her finishing school tutors would have wished. 

“And he wants to stay with you?” asked Jack.

“Seemingly not even enough money for a hotel, and apparently, it’s my duty, as an elderly spinster, to look after him” Phryne stabbed her knife into the table as she spoke, her accent reverting to something closer to Received Pronunciation. 

Jack decided there was no safe response to such a statement. He wondered how exactly it was that he had not actually had to spend some of this evening arresting Phryne for patricide. He was grateful that he had got to her house when he had. Plainly the crockery and glassware had borne the brunt of the anger and frustration. 

“Sorry. About the false arrest, and the handcuffs, and the man-handling of you out of the door. It was the only thing I could think of on the spot to get you out of there. Mr Butler was worried.” Jack prepared himself for the onslaught that was surely to follow. 

“I hope I didn’t hurt you when I slammed into you. My father would know that I would never go quietly with a police officer. He trained me always to kick up a stink if the police were trying to take me away. He had plenty of experience of being arrested. I’m surprised you haven’t met him before”. Phryne was finding a million thoughts bouncing through her mind at once. She found she was slightly disturbed by how much she had enjoyed Jack grasping her arms behind her and bending her over her armchair as he had cuffed her. She tried not to consider the implications of what that might mean. 

“I’ve always been in stations south of the river. If he stayed in Collingwood…” Jack was starting to realise how appalling Phryne’s younger life had been. It was so easy to forget sometimes; the straightened circumstances she came from. They had grown up in practically neighbouring suburbs; the junction of Hoddle and Victoria Streets the only thing which had separated them. For both of them, Europe had been a turning point. He was amazed he had come back alive from the horror; he was stunned Phryne had chosen to return. “I really am very sorry if I hurt you, Phryne” 

“It will be quite a story for my father to tell when he goes to the pub tomorrow. Which I have no doubt he will” Phryne paused, “you didn’t hurt me Jack. A bit of a loss of pride on my part; that you had to scoop in and rescue me. He just manages to pick at me so well that I lose all my usual..”

“Feistiness?” asked Jack

“Something like that” replied Phryne. 

They had both finished eating now, and they moved the plates to the sink. Jack decided he would deal with the washing up later. He picked up the wine. “Shall we move through to the lounge? Take advantage of that fire?” he was unaccountably nervous.

Phryne exited the room and paused in the hallway. Jack almost collided with her. “So, that’s the bathroom,” she waved a hand, “kitchen,” she pointed, “dining room?” she guessed, pointing at the door immediately next to that of the kitchen. Jack nodded, and swung the door open allowing Phryne to look around. She emerged a moment later “That’s the study” she pointed at the far door, “so this is” she took a step towards the only unidentified room, looking at Jack.

Jack swallowed nervously. He was right; this had been a terrible idea. “Bedroom” he stuttered out. He tried not to blush. It made the situation worse. But, if nothing else, he thought, she was at least back to teasing him.

Phryne saw his cheeks flush and wished she hadn’t asked. “Ah” she said. Her hand hesitated on the door handle, and she turned to face Jack instead. “I’m sure that’s lovely” she smiled brightly. She released her hand and stepped towards the hallway. "It's a very nice home, Jack".

Jack wasn’t sure if he was relieved or devastated that she had reigned in her inquisitive nature. The thought of Phryne in his bedroom made him unable to move for a brief moment. This had really been a terrible idea. He caught up with her in the lounge, she was considering her valise. 

“I don’t know if there is anything in there which needs hanging up. Obviously, I will take the sofa tonight” he was fairly sure he was babbling. He placed the bottle of wine on the drinks trolley, and set to moving the furniture. He shifted the coffee table to one side and began dragging the sofa closer to the fire. 

Phryne opened her case, “am I staying?” she asked.

“If that’s all right. I can always try and find you a hotel. But it is getting late. And you’ll be safe here” he was absolutely positive he was babbling. 

Phryne considered her options. She didn’t have much in the way of cash on her. Actually, nothing in the way of cash on her. She could insist that she use the telephone and call Mac; Mac would not hesitate to say that Jack could drive her there for the night. Or, she could stay the night at Jack’s. It would be fine. He would be the perfect gentleman; there was absolutely no doubt of that. She was suddenly rather unsure as to whether she wanted him to be the perfect gentleman. Maybe with no prying eyes, and in the comfort of his own home, his facade would falter? Maybe not. Either way, she wanted to spend time with him in his home. And in that instant she decided that she was staying. 

She snapped open the luggage. A number of items had been hastily packed. She checked the side pocket, finding a roll of cash. Resourceful Dot, she thought. Now she did have enough cash to go to a hotel. She looked at Jack, easing the sofa across the floor towards the warmth of the fire. She didn’t want to leave. She looked through the items; a spare set of underwear, another set of trousers, a skirt, a choice of two blouses, her peach nightwear and her black silk robe. There was also a small handbag and her beret. She reached into the other side pocket, locating her pistol and dagger. Dot had been very resourceful indeed! She lifted the clothes carefully, finding a wash bag. She said a small prayer and quickly opened it, making sure Jack wasn’t looking. She raised an eyebrow; amongst the obviously hastily gathered makeup and toiletry items nestled the Bakelite case. She eased open the catch, and tried not to grin as she observed the small rubber disc. She raised an eyebrow at the realisation that she and Jack had Dot’s approval. She tried not to giggle and failed spectacularly. 

“Phryne?” asked Jack, now moving the coffee table once more. 

Phryne snapped the case shut, dropping it into the wash bag and moving that back into the valise. “Jack. Would you mind terribly if I went and slipped into something more comfortable? I dressed somewhat hastily when my father turned up unannounced, and as I am staying….” her voice went quiet.

“Absolutely, that would be lovely. You should feel free to use the bedroom, obviously. I will be sat here” Jack practically grappled himself to the sofa. 

Phryne smiled at Jack, picking up her case and moving down the hallway. Jack tried to remember to breathe as he heard her open the door to his bedroom. He heard the light switch flick. There was a pause before he heard the door shut again. He buried his head in one of the scatter cushions on the sofa and groaned loudly. He sat up and Jack considered that this was going to be the most extreme test of his will-power yet. He reminded himself that Phryne was a lady, and that their relationship was definitely not physical, and that now was not the time to try anything; when she was effectively trapped in his home. He had noted that she had no handbag; he had bundled her out of the house too quickly for that. He therefore presumed that at some point she had realised that short of demanding that he take her somewhere else, she had little choice other than to stick it out for the night. If she was staying it was plainly only because she felt she had no other choice. He took another drink of his wine, and stood up to retrieve the bottle from the drink’s trolley. At that point, the phone rang in the study. 

Jack stood up and moved swiftly. He answered the phone “Robinson” he grunted.

“Good evening Sir, its Mr Butler, I hope you don’t mind me telephoning you Sir.” Jack could hear the kindly tone even over the phone.

“No, no, it’s fine Mr Butler. It’s good to hear from you. How are things? Did Miss Williams manage to get to her mother’s?” Jack was worried that the situation may have deteriorated. 

“She did. Mr Yates came and picked her up, and then came back to confirm that she’s safely ensconced with her family. Excellent scones, apparently. How is Miss Fisher?” Jack heard the concern as Mr Butler made the gentle enquiry. It occurred to Jack, not for the first time, that Phryne was capable of inciting immense loyalty from her household.

Jack decided not to mention the crying, “She seems to have calmed down somewhat. I can only hope that separating her and Lord Fisher will allow them both to act more reasonably when they are next together. Perhaps take the heat out of the situation.”

“Indeed Sir. Lord Fisher is currently drinking his way through Miss Fisher’s brandy. I expect him to retire to bed shortly, Sir” the implication in Mr Butler’s words was clear.

“Miss Fisher has agreed to stay here” Jack felt guilty speaking for Phryne. He was fairly sure that ‘slipping into something more comfortable’ was an acknowledgement that she was indeed staying. Had she specifically said she was? He could not recall, his mind was in a haze. He pondered for a second whether Mr Butler would draw any unwarranted conclusions. He considered mentioning his intention to sleep on the sofa, but decided that was a little like protesting too much. 

“Excellent, Sir” Jack thought he could hear Mr Butler smiling.

“And thank you for the food, Mr Butler, it was excellent, as always” Jack was grateful that he had not had to try and feed Phryne from his meagre supplies. 

“I managed to put something in for Breakfast. I hope that was acceptable, Sir” Mr Butler enquired.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Very thoughtful. Perhaps we could speak in the morning, see how the land lies then?” Jack asked. He thought he was coming perilously close to trying to interfere in Phryne’s life, something he knew she would not take kindly to, “I could ring you and then pass the telephone to Miss Fisher, to ensure that her father does not speak to her if the situation has not improved?” 

“An excellent plan, Inspector. I shall await your call. Good night Sir.”

“Good night Mr Butler” Jack hung up the receiver. 

He moved back into the lounge to find Phryne curled up on the sofa, contemplating the flames in the fireplace. She had turned the light off, and her face glowed in the reflected flames. Jack moved over and carefully sat on the sofa, trying to position himself as far from Phryne as possible. She shivered as she sipped from her wine glass. She had changed, Jack noted, into her black silk robe. He tried to avoid looking, but could not help but observe that underneath she was wearing the peach nightwear he had seen on previous late night chats in her parlour. 

Jack leaned forwards and picked up the poker. He idly poked the pieces of wood. He reached for the tongs and threw an extra piece of wood on. He placed the instruments on the tiled hearth and sat back. He picked up his wine and carefully drank from it. 

Phryne looked over at him. He looked as if he had crunched as much of himself as far away from her as possible. He was still wearing his tie and his waistcoat, and his shoes and his socks. “What about you Jack, time to take off some of your layers? It is your house, after all” she curled the edges of her lips upwards in an approximation of half a smile. 

Jack swallowed nervously. He put his wine down on the floor next to the sofa. He bent forwards and carefully unlaced his shoes, removing them slowly. He wiggled his toes. Given their proximity to the fire, he decided he could be daring enough to remove his socks as well. He stood up and moved the items so his shoes were by the front door, ready for the morning. He tossed his socks onto the armchair, and shucked off his waistcoat, loosening his tie before carefully sliding it round his neck. He added the items to the socks on the chair. He tentatively undid the top button of his shirt, aware that Phryne was watching him. He felt like he was laying himself bare before her.

He returned to the sofa, carefully collecting his wine as he re-took his seat. He swung his feet up onto the sofa, his entire body now facing towards Phryne, whose position he now mirrored. Their feet were practically touching. Phryne examined him. He looked simultaneously more relaxed and utterly terrified. Phryne curled her head down onto her knees. She was beginning to realise what the photographs meant; what it all meant. He was plainly interested in being much more than a friend. 

She wondered what was holding him back; she had made her interest in him very plain. She allowed it all to percolate through her mind. Suddenly, it all slotted together like a jigsaw whose image could only be revealed with the final few pieces. He thought she only wanted him for his body. That was true of course; she had a very deep desire to drag Jack to bed and give him an experience he would never forget. But she had also been coming to realise that she had unwittingly become emotionally invested in developing a relationship with him. It scared her witless. She was confident of her own powers of seduction, and she was fairly sure that there had been a number of choice occasions over recent months where she could have made a very direct invitation for him to ‘join her upstairs’ which would have been accepted. She realised now why she had not chosen to vocalise any of those offers at the time she had felt like extending them. 

He was a good man, and she would never want to hurt him, but she had sworn not to commit herself to any man. Jack knew why that was, and she remembered the concern that had been etched across his face that day when Rene had come back. She remembered his tenderness as he had held her at Janey’s graveside. She recalled the slight look of, had it been pride, she wondered; when she had locked eyes with him at the end of her fan dance in the Imperial Gentlemen’s club. She recalled their falling out, when he had as good as declared that he could not bear to stand by and watch her recklessly endanger herself, whilst shutting everyone out. He had as good as declared the extent of his emotions for her that evening, but she had been too stubbornly entrenched in her own sense of self-righteousness to realise what he had been saying. 

She recalled his surprise that she had arranged for him to be called to the scene of the murder at her friend Raymond’s film, she recalled her relief when he had arrived at Maiden Creek, and the slightly smouldering look he had given her when she had fixed his new hat on his head. She recalled them singing together after her party when the Radio murders had been solved. ‘Let’s misbehave’ they had sung, to each other; and she recalled now that his pupils had been dilated, his breath laboured, a bead of sweat had trickled down his throat; unusual in late autumn. And she recalled how he had come to her after the Pandarus, after Rosie, and had seemed to make his feelings very plain. She had been sure, absolutely positive, that when he took that miniscule step towards her that evening, it had been with the intention of kissing her. She would have kissed him back, and she bitterly regretted that she had not tried harder to make him stay. 

And since then; nothing. There had been some lingering looks during Christmas in July, there had been behaviour that could constitute flirting at subsequent cases, he was coming to her house for supper even when they did not have a case on. Their nightcaps had become more lingering than ever. She had been willing him to kiss her, thinking that he had to make the first move. It suddenly occurred to her that he was too much of a gentleman to make the advance; possibly fearing rejection, possibly fearing heart-break. She realised now that he had been protecting his heart as much as she had. When had ‘affairs’ become ‘affairs of the heart’? 

She wanted him to kiss her when he meant it, not as some distraction from a psychotic ex-lover, hell bent on taking his revenge on her for having the audacity to leave him. She was a modern woman; she had no qualms about being very direct indeed with any other man, why was Jack any different? And she realised, now that they were in his house, he would never consider making a move. He would probably think that she would feel obliged to respond. Sometimes he really didn’t know her at all. She decided to work through the possible objections.

“It turns out Dot stashed some cash in my valise” she offered.

“Oh?” replied Jack, roused from his own contemplations. 

“Enough for a night at The Windsor. Or for doing a flit, should the need arise” she grinned at him. 

“Are you planning on doing a flit?” Jack asked, nervously, licking his lips. 

“No. I am planning on staying right here, Jack” Phryne sat up, moving fractionally closer to him. 

Jack smiled, he could feel his heart beating in his chest. It felt like it was about to explode. His eyes glanced from her eyes to her lips. Phryne clocked the movement; there had been quite a bit of that recently too. He sat forward slightly. 

“That’s good” he said. He adjusted his feet, and their toes wiggled against each other. Phryne smiled; the first real, genuine, smile he had seen all evening, not one tinged with sadness or regret. “I wouldn’t want you to feel like you were obliged to stay” he added.

“Jack. You should know by now that I never do anything out of a sense of obligation” Phryne said. She gingerly reached out a hand across the back of the sofa, reaching for Jack’s fingers which were already resting there. She stroked the very end of his fingers. 

Jack found his mind working through matters very rapidly. She was not here because she could not go anywhere else; she had money. A small part of the back of his brain said that even if she had not had money, she would have found a way to have left if she really wanted to. She never did anything out of a sense of obligation, and she had just initiated physical contact. He looked at her now in the firelight. He drained the last of his wine and set the glass down on the floor. Phryne, who had a head start on the wine consumption, having drunk more quickly during supper, sipped the last of the liquid in her glass, and reached down with her empty glass, placing it on the floor at the side of the sofa. 

She adjusted her position, folding her knees underneath her. She slid her hands down Jack’s thighs, noting the pained expression that crossed his face. Her hands moved quickly to his shoulders. She felt him struggle to control his breathing. 

Jack felt the atmosphere change. Phryne advanced towards him, and the light touch of her hands as she swept them down his thighs almost broke him. When she moved her hands to his shoulders, her entire body now practically pressed to one part or another of him, he thought he might combust. He struggled to control his breathing. In an effort to regain control he slowly shut his eyes. He felt Phryne move towards him, felt the exhale of air from her lips as she moved closer still. Jack slowly opened his eyes, as Phryne moved a hand from his shoulder, stroking it down his cheek. He could suddenly see the nervousness in her eyes too; see the slightly pained hope projecting from her. Maybe she felt the same way he did? He smiled very slightly, and Phryne saw the hope light up Jack’s face. Some of his nervousness seemed to recede. It occurred to Jack that there were no murders to solve, no relatives to interrupt, no ex-wives to censure them, no-one at all to disturb them. He closed his eyes again as he wrapped his free hand into Phryne’s hair and tugged her very gently towards him. 

Phryne felt her eyelids flutter shut as Jack pulled her towards him. He was all she wanted and her desire was balanced on a knife-edge. If he rejected her now she would explode. 

She felt him press his lips to hers, with a tenderness and a delicacy quite removed from the frantic way he had kissed her in Café Replique. The touch was perfect and they both paused to savour the exquisiteness of the moment. Jack moved his lips again, pressing against hers once more. Phryne moved her other hand to Jack’s neck, raking through the short hairs at the base of his neck. It was the movement which broke the dam. 

With a swiftness which astounded her, Jack swept forward, deepening the kiss as he pressed himself to Phryne. He moved his hand from the back of the sofa, freeing their entwined fingers as he went. His hand moved to her back, and he lifted her up slightly, moving the hand which had been in her hair to her legs, sweeping them from underneath her. He adjusted her so that she was on her back across the sofa, with himself pressed on top of her. He wedged a knee between her legs, burying his other knee between the sofa cushions. 

Jack deepened the kiss as Phryne eagerly responded. Jack’s hands were everywhere and Phryne felt the belt of her robe being loosened. She set to work on Jack’s shirt. She managed to free the top three buttons and then just pulled the offending item over his head, tossing it behind the sofa. She felt cotton, rather than skin, and opened her eyes briefly to determine that there was a vest, and resolved that it needed to come off. It followed the shirt into the dark. Jack pushed her robe off her shoulders, and Phryne adjusted herself so that the black silk pooled underneath her. 

They dived back to each other, kissing frantically. Jack’s hand moved inside Phryne’s top, his hand splayed across her back. His other hand was supporting him, holding him over her. Phryne ran her fingers down Jack’s chest, moving low to his belly. Her fingertips danced around the waistband of his trousers. Jack moved the attentions of his lips to Phryne’s neck and she mirrored the movement. As she stretched her neck up to afford him greater access, he nibbled her skin slightly, causing a breathy moan to escape from her. Feeling emboldened, Jack swept his hands down, then made a swift upwards movement, taking the top of her peach ensemble with him. It joined his shirt and vest behind the sofa. He reached down and kissed her breasts. Phryne whimpered and pulled him back up to her mouth. She fumbled with his trousers, working the belt loose before starting on his fly and freeing the buttons. She pushed his trousers and underwear down with one swift movement, using her feet when her hands could reach no further. Jack was grateful that her nightwear had no complicated fastenings as he tugged on the drawstring and swept her last remaining item of clothing down her legs. She assisted him by kicking the cloth off her feet and flicking the item off the end of the sofa, pushing Jack’s trousers over the arm of the sofa at the same time. 

Phryne became aware of Jack’s erection and adjusted her position, encouraging him to move his leg which had been buried between the sofa cushions so that she was spread beneath him. 

Phryne pulled Jack down for another searing kiss. Her arousal was already peaking from the sheer anticipation of finally being able to have him. 

Jack broke the kiss, “Phryne” he blurted.

“Jack” she panted.

“Phryne, can we? God I want you, but can we?” he couldn’t form any coherent words to explain what he was asking.

“Yes, Jack, yes, we can. I want you. Please god, Jack” she was practically begging and she didn’t care. 

Jack pulled her up to kiss her once more. He realised that he had barely even touched her. Phryne moaned into his mouth and wiggled her hips, grinding her pelvis into his. Jack took the hint, reaching down and finding Phryne’s opening. Dear god she was damp. He jerked forward, thrusting his cock into her. They both cried out. Jack looked down at Phryne, wrapped around him. He kissed her again, frantic as he moved inside her. Phryne dug her fingers into Jack’s back, willing him deeper. She ground down onto him, as his kisses became sloppier. 

Jack buried his lips in Phryne’s neck. As he kissed and licked and lightly bit she moaned loudly. She could feel her climax building. “Jack” she groaned, throwing her head back. She felt his hips tip slightly and the slight change in contact brought her even closer. He felt like he was thrusting into her very deeply. She felt the muscles in her core begin to contract. 

The feel of Phryne beginning to come apart around him was too much for Jack, who felt his own climax reaching an inevitable crescendo. “God Phryne!” he groaned, feeling himself spilling into her. The change in movement caused Phryne’s final thread of resistance to crumble, and she followed him over, her convulsions allowing her to feel the lingering effects of his climax more deeply. She dug her fingernails into his backside and shoulder as she cried out, an incoherent string of half-words erupting from her. 

As Jack’s climax faded he pushed himself upwards, breaking from kissing her. Phryne fell back onto the sofa, her hands slipping from Jack’s back. They were both breathless and panting. Jack’s eyes were the size of saucers. He looked down at Phryne who appeared to be in a state of shock. Jack had the sudden realisation that he probably wasn’t sleeping on the sofa tonight after all. A smile broke across his face and he bent forward and lightly kissed Phryne on the lips. When he broke that kiss, Phryne was smiling too. 

It occurred to Jack that of all the many ways he had ever imagined this happening; on his sofa, in the firelight, had not even featured amongst the possibilities. He decided that he wasn’t going to apologise for it. 

Jack lightly ran his fingers over Phryne’s breasts, swirling patterns around them. He blew on her nipples and was pleased when they immediately hardened. He caressed her waist and her hips, levering himself downwards as his cock slipped free from her glorious warmth. He kissed his way up her body, from her belly to her lips, holding her close to him when his face met hers. 

Phryne was indeed in something of a state of shock. She offered a silent prayer to Dot’s foresight and wondered just exactly what had happened to make Jack suddenly unleash himself. It had all been over remarkably quickly, in the end, but Phryne didn’t care. She found an interest in dragging him to the bedroom for a second round was developing. 

“Jack. Why now?” she asked, curious.

“I think it was the firelight. You look so lovely, on my sofa, like you belong here. And I just wanted to kiss you, so much. And you had a look of hope in your eyes.” Jack tried to answer coherently. 

“Oh, Jack” Phryne reached up and pulled him down into a tender kiss. 

Jack found that his body was starting to develop an interest again as well. Phryne shivered beneath him, the wood in the fire had largely burnt down to embers, and the room was becoming colder. He sat up and then carefully removed himself from between Phryne’s legs. She was a truly glorious sight, and Jack thought he had never seen anything more magnificent in his life. He held a hand out towards her.

“Come to bed?” he asked.

Phryne pushed herself off the sofa, standing up and pressing herself against Jack’s body.

“I thought you’d never ask” she whispered, as he led her slowly to the bedroom.


End file.
